


signal disorder

by ideare



Category: iKON (Kpop)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Alternate Universe - Space, Body Horror, Gen, Paranoia, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-07
Updated: 2016-07-07
Packaged: 2018-07-22 00:56:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7412113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ideare/pseuds/ideare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>6. 43. 285. 71. 9<br/>The numbers keep appearing, but Junhwe doesn't know what they mean.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	signal disorder

**Author's Note:**

> ['LOVE' by Black Futures ft. P.O.S](http://blackfutures.bandcamp.com/releases)

  
  
  


**(6)** 43285719

  
  
  
There is an implant in his arm. He can _feel_ it, so no amount of reassurances will convince him otherwise. He might not be able to scratch right now, (the bandages are wrapped tight around his hands like mittens,) but maybe he can use his teeth instead? If he does this quickly enough, he can stop the implant from going any deeper into his body, to places not so easily reached.  
  
He brings his arm up to his mouth, clamping his teeth down on a small patch of skin on the line of his vein, not too far below his wrist. He tightens his hold and begins to stretch the skin upwards while grinding his teeth. He ignores the throb of pain that shoots through his arm, lets the pain numb into the other aches on his body.  
  
He can taste the tangy copper of his blood, even if he can't see it. It bubbles hot in his mouth, and he lets it dribble out from around his lips. The red liquid runs faster thinned with his spit, racing down his arm, twining around to drip off the point of his elbow. He watches as tiny drops of blood bloom in the white sheets pooled around his legs.  
  
He can tell that he's getting closer to the implant. Just a little bit longer and he'll be able to remove it.  
  
His arm is yanked away from his mouth just as a different metallic taste touches the tip of his tongue.  
  
The nurse is grim faced and unreasonable as they call for assistance.  
  
"No!" Junhwe struggles against their iron grip. "Wait, please! I almost had it!"  
  
The nurse doesn't respond as a medic approaches Junhwe with a sedative, the needle-point sharp and threatening.  
  
Junhwe stops struggling, trying to show them that he's willing to be co-operative, but pretty soon everything goes dark.  
  


x

  
  
It's still dark when Junhwe opens his eyes again. His head feels heavy and muddled, his mouth dry.  
  
He moves his head slowly from side to side. In his peripheral vision, he notices metal bars. What is this? have they _caged_ him? He understands that what he did was unsanitary, but surely restraints and a sedative are enough?  
  
He knows, that under the circumstances, his actions were perfectly reasonable. It's not as if they were going to give him some antiseptics and a scalpel and tell him to have at it. And it wasn't as if he could have just _asked_ them to do it. It would have taken too long to convince them that the implant was there - precious time that he didn't have to waste. Timing is everything. (Besides, nothing is that easy around here. Unless you were Donghyuk.)  
  
He lifts his arms slowly, testing the restraints. As it turns out, there aren't any. His limbs are heavy from the effects of the sedation, but are otherwise unimpeded. With his hands wrapped like mittens, he touches the metal around his face.  
  
His frown of confusion swiftly turns into a contorted expression of panic.  
  
He grips at the metal frame as much as he can, the edge of his fingers barely making it through the slim entrances, and pulls hard. He doesn't let up until that same nurse is back. Looking more annoyed and less and less sympathetic.  
  
"Bring another sedative, something stronger. Before his screams wake up the whole damn dorms."  
  


x

  
  
Junhwe wakes up in darkness and he's not even surprised. Time seems to have stopped moving for a while now. His head seems clearer though, lighter, and there are no metal frames encroaching his vision. He feels relief flood through him. Yawning, he relaxes into his pillows.  
  
Except that he doesn't. His mouth remains firmly, stubbornly shut, and panic replaces his relief. He opens his mouth to scream, because that always brings the nurses. Sound escapes but his mouth barely opens, the pressure in his jaw expanding. His screams of help sounds muffled, as if he was tongueless and buried alive, somewhere deep and far away.  
  
He notices that same nurse returning and quiets down. His mouth snaps shut with a jaw numbing _click_!  
  
  


6 **(4)** 3285719

  
  
  
There is blood running hot down his back. His fingers are slick with it and it's a struggle to keep his grip. But Junhwe knows that if he presses just a little bit harder, if he can get his nails in deep enough, he can destroy the loop. Just scratching the numbers on the surface wouldn't do it, he would have to break the pattern entirely.  
  
Break the pattern, destroy the loop.  
  
Break the pattern, destroy the loop.  
Break the pattern, destroy the loop.  
  
Break the pattern, destroy the loop.  
Break the pattern, destroy the loop.  
Break the pattern, destroy the loop.  
  
Break the pattern, destroy the loop.  
Break the pattern, destroy the loop.  
  
Break the pattern, destroy the loop.  
  
It is such an easy concept. So why can't anyone understand his motives?  
  
Why are they wrestling his arms away from his back? Yelling for a nurse, a medic, restraints. He needs something sharper than his fingernails, is what he needs, not medical attention. Surely, they can see that.  
  
  


64 **(3)** 285719

  
  
  
They keep appearing: 6 4 3 2 8 5 7 1. Junhwe doesn't know what they mean.  
  


x

  
  
The first and only time he sees a tattoo appear, he thinks he's hallucinating. Actually, if Donghyuk wasn't gaping in awe with him, he might very well have dismissed the whole thing as a hallucination of pain and exhaustion; his mind attempting to cope with all the pressure he's under.  
  
He twists himself away from Donghyuk's mesmerized tracing, pulling at his side. Mirrors can't be trusted in situations like these. He stretches the skin across his back struggling to see the extent of his tattoos. The numbers are distorted by how hard he's tugging on his skin, but he can see that the numbers are in blocks. They look like someone tattooed an incomplete _sudoku_ on the back of the left side of Junhwe's shoulder.  
  
They watch fascinated as a pinprick of blood blooms under the '5'. The dot extends into a circle before dropping sharply down into a slanted line. Once the bloody '9' is complete, the mark scars and then seems to burn, the whole thing darkening.  
  
Donghyuk reaches out and wipes at the darkened patch of skin.  
  
"Does it hurt?"  
  
His voice is barely a whisper, his eyes transfixed on the number that emerges as he swipes his thumb across the area.  
  
"No."  
  
And it's true. Junhwe can't feel any of this. He can feel Donghyuk's thumb, sure, but he hadn't felt the tattoo being made. He's not too surprised either; with all the extra drills he has been running and how little sleep he's been getting, Junhwe is in a constant state of pain. He's practically numb to it now. Everything aches all the time. That there might have been additional pain on top of what he's already used to isn't something he's noticed.  
  


x

  
  
The numbers now read as:  


> 6 4 3

> 2 8 5

> 7 1 9

  
  
  


643 **(2)** 85719

  
  
  
A burst of static sounds over the airwaves before the intercom buzzes to life. A steady, almost robotic voice announces:  
  
"All personnel must report to their designated areas immediately. Inspection will commence in five minutes. I repeat, all personnel must report to their designated areas immediately. Inspection will commence in five minutes. Thank you."  
  
Junhwe's eyes open slowly. He lays unmoving on his assigned bed, his whole body aching from the company's last drill run through. He swears he can feel even his fingernails throb with the pain that laces his whole body. He really can not understand it. Shouldn't his body be getting used to this routine by now? He has been here for well over a month; he has repeated this process for long enough for his body to adjust. What is this constant exhaustion that laces through his bones? and why does it feel like he is settling into an old routine that his muscles refuse to remember?  
  
He listens to the sound of his roommates swinging out of beds, getting dressed, organizing their sleeping areas, and leaving for their aforementioned designated areas. He lets his eyes slip shut when he thinks he is alone. He'll get a demerit against his ID number for being late, and will most likely end up with breakfast KP duty until the end of the year, but that is still not a strong enough motivation for him to get up. When — no, _if_ there is ever a real emergency, he'll get up; no doubt, the adrenaline and fear will propel him to his designated area and guide him through his training with minimal errors. Until then though, he will just–  
  
"Get up."  
  
A hand is splayed over his shoulder and chest, shaking him gently. "If you don't get up now, you'll have your credit deducted." The voice is soft, high in tone, and even before Junhwe has opened his eyes, he can place who the voice belongs to.  
  
As the shaking stops, there is a shift on the bed, the end of the mattress dipping slightly under the combined new weight. Donghyuk reaches under Junhwe's armpits like one would do to pick up a baby, pulling him in to an upright position. Junhwe gives in and opens his eyes, startling to see how close him and Donghyuk's faces are to each other. They blink at each other before,  
  
"I'm up now, you can let go."  
  
"Right! Sorry." Donghyuk scrambles away from Junhwe, off the bed, and putting more distance between them by pressing his back against the opposite wall.  
  
Junhwe is actually already dressed, having not had the energy the night before to change out of his PT gear. (He'd literally walked into the showers fully dressed and then lain shivering and wet on top of his covers for the few minutes it had taken him to fall asleep.) Once he is off the bed, he motions Donghyuk forward.  
  
"Help me fix this."  
  
There isn't much to fix on the bed. The sheets are a bit wrinkled from being slept on and his pillow has sunken inwards from where his head had been, but other than that it is still relatively neat.  
  
As they run their hands over the sheets like make-shift irons, Junhwe asks, "Don't you mean give me a demerit?"  
  
Donghyuk looks up from his corner, an expression of confusion flickering across his face in a tiny furrow of eyebrows. Then his expression clears and he shakes his head in understanding.  
  
"No, demerits are for when you don't perform satisfactorily during a drill, or you annoy a drill master or instructor in some way. For every out right act of disobedience, you get your credit reduced.  
  
"I heard, one year, a boy was so bad that he ended up living on nothing but crackers and water for weeks before he started earning enough credits back to purchase proper food. By then he was so malnourished, he had to get glucose solutions administered through IV drips for a month."  
  
Even from his short stay here, Junhwe knows that IV drips aren't cheap. In fact, a lot of them are ridiculously expensive, the cheapest being about the same amount of credits as a seven-course celebratory meal.  
  
One of the first stories he heard was of lower level ranks working for the higher level ranks in order to save up enough credits for the elusive B1216 solution. Rumour has it that the solution can unlock your mind and body so that you perform at your utmost potential, graduate early, and get you into a position of power where you never had to worry about credits again. Of course, everyone has only heard of a friend of a friend doing it; no one has outright claimed to have brought it, and the powers that be deny its existence all together.  
  
Still though, IV drips for a month when the kid could barely afford proper food? Not likely. In fact, Junhwe thinks the whole story is dubious, but for the fact that Donghyuk is here, risking a reduction in credit in order to help him out, keeps him from saying as much to Donghyuk. Instead, he says,  
  
"That sounds rough. So, if anyone asks, I was unresponsive and you had to bring me round. Got it?"  
  
Every thing he says sounds slightly threatening, but Junhwe can't help it, doesn't know how else to phrase it. He and Donghyuk aren't friends, exactly, but he feels the need to pay back this favour of assistance by doing the same in kind.  
  
All lies are lies, as far as Junhwe is concerned, but he knows society views white lies and lies of omission as something tamer, more tolerable than outright tales of fantasy and falsehood.  
  
And yet, Donghyuk shakes his head. He straightens up and Junhwe mirrors him.  
  
"You might get kicked off the program if they, for any reason, think you can't handle it."  
  
In an alternate reality, Junhwe replies unhesitatingly with good, let them. In this reality, however, he merely shrugs and counters with, "A few weeks wasted is better than a few years, right?"  
  
Donghyuk pulls his lower lip in to his mouth and scrapes his front teeth over it slowly until his lip pops gently out again. Eventually though, he nods.  
  
"That's settled then. Let's go before we both end up living on nothing but crackers and water."  
  


x

  
  
Donghyuk seems to have a weird paternal effect on people that make them want to both please him and protect him. Instead of a demerit or a reduction in credits, they push Junhwe twice as hard as everyone else; for the same amount of credits and the same amount of time as everyone else, he is given twice as many drills to run and reports to write up. Junhwe is quietly frustrated by the whole thing, which every one can tell because his face contorts into these weird expressions every time he's given a new order.  
  
By the end of the day, Junhwe's PT gear is stiff with new layers of sweat and the parts of his body that are exposed are a pulsating, itchy red. Even his eyes are red, stinging from the sweat that trickles off his hair and into his eyes. He had tried pushing his hair back, slicking it back and out of his face, but that had only served to stick his hair up in tufts of odd angles before the wind slapped it back down into his face.  
  
Overall, today has definitely been tougher than yesterday and Junhwe dares not even imagine what tomorrow might be like, or the days ahead that stretch endlessly, blurrily into his service.  
  
He trails into the shower room, his feet dragging against the floor, fighting the urge to just collapse out of pure exhaustion. Everyone else has been and gone, it seems, leaving the shower room a damp, humid wasteland: obscure shadow things shifting in the steamed-up mirrors, his feet creating tiny wakes with each shuffle, droplets of water clinging to all of the available surfaces.  
  
Junhwe actually undresses this time before he steps into the shower. The last towel on the rack is damp with condensation, and doesn't so much dry him as it does shift the drops of water on him around, leaving him feeling sticky as the water slowly evaporates in the humid room.  
  
He brushes his teeth half-heartedly, his eyes drooping, shifting his weight from foot to foot in an attempt to keep sleep at bay until he reaches his room. He almost chokes on the foam of his toothpaste when he lifts his eyes up and sees Donghyuk behind him.  
  
Donghyuk is staring at Junhwe's damp back. He doesn't look shocked or disgusted, just mildly impressed. Keeping his eyes on Donghyuk, Junhwe spits out the toothpaste and wipes his mouth. Cold water drips from his hand and splashes chillingly on his chest as Donghyuk looks up.  
  
"I forgot my glasses case." Donghyuk motions vaguely towards the rear of the shower room. He continues with "I didn't know you had a tattoo," before walking away.  
  
Putting his toothbrush away, Junhwe frowns; he doesn't have a tattoo.  
  
When he passes him on his way out, Junhwe stops Donghyuk with the question, "what tattoo?"  
  
Donghyuk stops literally in mid-step before turning to face Junhwe, his head tilted in curiosity. He looks around the room slowly, as if expecting to see a camera somewhere or someone hiding behind one of the shower partitions.  
  
"The one on your back." He drags it out as if he's playing at half-speed, the end of the sentence lilting upwards in question. He looks like he wants to say something else, but then just stares at Junhwe.  
  
Junhwe turns away from him to look into the mirrors. Even with the vents on, they're still mostly fogged from the heat and when he reaches out to wipe one clean, he only manages to smear the condensation around, blurring his vision. Still though, that doesn't stop him from contorting his body as he tries to see the tattoo that Donghyuk is talking about.  
  
"Here, let me."  
  
Donghyuk steps closer to Junhwe, gently straightening Junhwe's body and pressing down on the area where Junhwe supposes the tattoo is. Donghyuk comes around to Junhwe's side. Taking Junhwe's chin in his hand, Donghyuk tilts his face slowly to the side and down. The angle of his neck is almost painful, and Junhwe wants to straighten up, but Donghyuk's grip remains firm. From this angle, it's possible for Junhwe to see the tattoo just below his shoulder blades. He can't make out what it's supposed to be of though.  
  
"What's it say?" His words come out garbled in this weird angle.  
  
"Six."  
  
"What?"  
  
"It's the number 'six'. In numeric form." Releasing him, Donghyuk steps back. "It looks pretty old though. How long have you had it for?" With a pause that makes it seem like an after thought, he tacks on, "Were you drunk when you got it?"  
  
At Junhwe's glare, Donghyuk takes another step back.  
  
"Why would I get a tattoo while drunk?"  
  
Donghyuk shrugs. "Lots of people do. Besides, why else wouldn't you know what it is." The last part isn't a question, more of a clarification, Donghyuk's way of reasoning with Junhwe.  
  
He walks away before Junhwe gets a chance to reply.  
  
  


6432 **(8)** 5719

  
  
  
Sitting on the edge of his bed, Junhwe is up and ready before the alarm even sounds for the morning drill.  
  
He sees Donghyuk watching him sleepily as he heads for his designated area.  
  


x

  
  
Donghyuk corners him in the shower room at the end of the day. They stare at each other through the mirror, unblinkingly.  
  
Junhwe can see a whole lifetime playing out through Donghyuk's eyes: the numbers, the smoke, the pain, the regret - and now, the suspicion. He decides it's best to tread carefully.  
  
"So, how many tattoos do you have?"  
  
Junhwe can sense his own. The numbers are shifting into a new pattern. Crawling across each other to get into their new positions.  
  
Ah! This should be interesting.  
  
  


64328 **(5)** 719

  
  
  
"They're talking about me. I know they are." Junhwe sits slumped in his chair, his leg vibrating violently under the table, his head low with one hand half covering his face, shielding him from the view of the rest of the canteen.  
  
Donghyuk doesn't know how to respond to that. He's heard people muttering when they passed, and he's had whole conversations stutter loudly in to new topics. But if that had all been about Junhwe, he's not sure.  
  
"Maybe they're just shocked because they've never seen anyone not care about their credit reduction before?" Donghyuk offers instead.  
  
When most people's credit gets reduced, they make an effort to earn back what they've lost. Junhwe just stares blankly at whatever instructor is yelling at him before giving a half-hearted "I'll work harder."  
  
Junhwe shakes his head roughly, his hair slipping through his fingers to obscure his eyes. "No. It's because they _know_."  
  
Donghyuk looks around. No one is looking at them. People are talking, sure, but that's to be expected in a canteen. He looks at Junhwe: his hair out of regulation, tiny stains from breakfast in the middle of his shirt, and dark circles under his eyes which are wide and constantly moving. He looks scared. One could might even say paranoid.  
  
Donghyuk changes the subject.  
  


x

  
  
"Have you _seen_ him?"  
  
"Yeah, I saw!"  
  
"It's amazing isn't it? How is he able to get away with looking like that? If it was anyone else, we wouldn't hear the end of it."  
  
"It's because of Donghyuk, of course; Donghyuk vouches for him."  
  
"Why does Donghyuk even hang around that guy? They're not similar at all!"  
  
"Right? I think he's using Donghyuk. Maybe it's some kind of brainwashing chip."  
  
"Do they have those here? I thought they weren't available off-world."  
  
"They're not even _legal_ in my hometown; only the really unstable people know where to get them."  
  
"We've all seen that kid — you can tell he's unstable! There's no emotion in his face when he talks."  
  
"Or ever. I don't even think I've seen that guy _yawn_."  
  
The conversation trails off as the two men turn the corner at the end of the hall.  
  
Once tense and straining to catch every word, desperately trying to place the voices with faces because it'd be hopeless trying to figure out their names, Junhwe now relaxes against the wall, his feet sliding out in front of him as he sinks to the floor. From their angle, unless they were deliberately looking into the compartment, Junhwe would have gone unnoticed. He would like to think they would have been less obvious if they knew he was mere feet away, listening in on their conversation.  
  
He tugs at the bandages the nurses have wrapped around his hands after they cut his nails as uncomfortably close to his skin as they could get it. He's tried loosening it several times, but the layers have proved to be too thick for the delicate work it would require to undo the bandages.  
  
Junhwe closes his eyes and tilts his head up. The nurses will come for him soon. They always find him.  
  
  


643285 **(7)** 19

  
  
  
It's foggy. Colours have faded and the outline of everything blurs together until Junhwe can't tell anything apart.  
  
He moves through the fog as if it's water, slow and steady, causing ripples in the atmosphere.  
  
Shadowy blurs grow closer in the grey mass, and when he moves now he can feel the fingertips of outstretched hands. They brush against the inside of his arm, against his cheek, under his jaw, the back of his neck - seemingly everywhere. He can feel fingers glide across the top of his bare feet with every step.  
  
Something quick and bright darts between the shadows, out of place against the monotone of this quiet world. He shies away from it, drawing closer to the darkness.  
  
He is happy here.  
  
With so many people watching out for him, maybe now he can rest without worrying, without fear.  
  
How comforting it is to know that he's not alone!  
  
  


6432857 **(1)** 9

  
  
  
Junhwe lies blinking up at the ceiling, struggling to separate the noises from his dream from that of real life. It's an effort, but eventually, the volume of the commotion in the room sharpens and increases.  
  
A scream pierces through every other sound.  
  
For a breath-stopping moment, a sharp pain in his chest arrests his attempts at getting up. Once his heart thuds back into rhythm, he sits up with a jerk. Eyes wide, constantly scanning the room in an attempt to decipher what's going on in the dim light.  
  
There's some movement off to the side, a gaggle of boys huddled around a bed. Voices overlap and cascade in an unintended rhythm.  
  
"Tie him up!"  
  
"With what?"  
  
"Grab some sheets off the other beds. Start shredding them."  
  
"Are you in _sane_? do you know how much that'd cost?"  
  
"Forget the sheets!"  
"Don't bother tying him up!"  
"Just pin him down!"  
  
The group contracts around the bed, suddenly a tight knot rather than a disorganized circle. The sound of shuffling ruffles through the room, before silence descends. The knot expands out into a circle again, this one much better formed than the last.  
  
"Go get a nurse."  
  
"Why are you looking at me?"  
  
"You're the fastest runner here. Unless _you_ want to hold him down?"  
  
There is an uncomfortable few seconds of silence before someone breaks away from the circle.  
  
The seconds stretch on after the runner has left, before the soft static of whispered conversations fill the room.  
  
No one notices Junhwe. He settles carefully back down into his bed.  
  


x

  
  
That evening, Junhwe doesn't see Donghyuk until it's time for dinner, despite the fact that the majority of their courses are scheduled for the same slot. He's at a crowded table towards the exit, and Junhwe is half-tempted to just walk straight out and start working on his reports, even though full attendance during the first hour of meal times are compulsory and a credit is deducted for every minute you're absent without authorization. He has almost passed the table when Donghyuk calls out to him.  
  
Junhwe is certain that the silence that cocoons him as he makes his way to Donghyuk's table is not simply in his head. His whole body itches from the glares that track his movements.  
  
"Give us a minute."  
  
A grumble erupts around the canteen, but the surrounding people still disperse. Junhwe sits down in their absence.  
  
"Are you okay?"  
  
Donghyuk nods, but he looks tired: his eyes half closed and his faced flushed like he recently came out of the showers.  
  
"I had a dream about you," he says. He looks up at Junhwe, and Donghyuk's eyes are alert and focused despite the expression on his face.  
  
Junhwe squints at him. "You had a–"  
  
"It was more of a nightmare, actually." Donghyuk's gaze loses focus, and he stares off at a point just beyond Junhwe. Donghyuk's voice has an airy, almost empty quality, like he is aware he's speaking but doesn't quite know what he's saying.  
  
"You're in a room surrounded by people, all of them are smiling. You are, too; you think you're happy.  
  
"Smoke starts to fill the room and you can see flames coming closer. You're the only one that notices, but when you try to speak, to warn them all, you're mouth disappears. Everyone starts laughing. And then they stop… and then start again. They keep repeating that pattern. In the spaces before they start laughing again, you see that they have no eyes; it's all skin where their eyes should be.  
  
"You urge yourself to move, but you can't. Internally, you're screaming - screaming at them to run, to save themselves. The smoke is thicker now, the flames are closer, so close that your clothes start to shrivel.  
  
"You think you have to save these people, that they don't know how much danger they're in because they can't see it. You think you _can_ save these people, if only they'd listen to you; if only you could speak.  
  
"The flames engulf you all, and they just – keep – _laughing_."  
  
Junhwe stares at Donghyuk and Donghyuk stares back, but he doesn't seem to actually see Junhwe. It's like he's watching a film he's seen a thousand times before so he already knows the ending, but no matter how many times he tells them, the characters remain oblivious.  
  
Donghyuk suddenly says, "How many tattoos do you have again?"  
  
With that question, Donghyuk is back to the Donghyuk that Junhwe knows. The one with a sweet personality under a calm surface, his eyes bright and friendly. This 180 from the empty shell that had stared through him leaves Junhwe momentarily speechless. Junhwe blinks at Donghyuk in response, and then,  
  
"None?"  
  
"Good," Donghyuk says brightly, forcefully chipper.  
  
Junhwe feels like they might have had this conversation before.  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> originally written for [exchangekon](http://exchangekon.livejournal.com/1696.html) over at livejournal.


End file.
